


Kisses, Cake, and Glitter Bombs

by mizmahlia



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: BatCat, Because I'm reckless and irresponsible, Birthday Fluff, Family Bonding, Gen, Happy Birthday Bruce Wayne, Something that I don't typically do, This is nothing but shameless fluff, This is unbeta'd, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22813753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizmahlia/pseuds/mizmahlia
Summary: Bruce doesn't like celebrating his birthday, but this year, he changes his mind after the ones he loves show him how awesome birthdays can be.This is pure sappy fluff and I regret nothing.
Relationships: Batfamily - Relationship, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 103





	Kisses, Cake, and Glitter Bombs

Bruce was never one to make a big deal about his own birthday. He didn’t care to celebrate it at all, really.

He didn’t like all the attention at the office or from the media, and he hated the gossip about “looking great for his age”. The insinuations he had plastic surgery or was taking something to keep himself young were infuriating, not to mention downright rude. He had half a mind to consent to the fifth interview request from a major mens’ health magazine just to shut people up; but if anyone knew what his actual workout routine was like, they probably wouldn’t believe it, anyway.

Since when was forty-two _that_ old, especially nowadays?

He huffed a sigh and shifted his focus back to the task at hand: patrol. It was just after 12:30 A.M., the city was quiet, and he was just about to head home when his comm beeped in his ear. Based on the tone, it was the direct line only he and Oracle used. A sharp gust of wind threw snow in his face and he grit his teeth, cursing his decision not to wear the winterized suit tonight.

“Come in, Oracle.”

“Someone tripped the silent alarm you wanted me to keep an eye on.”

Closing his eyes, he bit back a smile. It was the alarm in a new high-end jewelry store in the Fashion District, a place Selina hadn’t had the chance to hit yet.

“I’m on it. Thank you.”

The sound of typing on the other end of the line stopped momentarily and Bruce paused before firing his grapple.

“You’re welcome. And happy birthday, B. I hope it’s a good one- you deserve it.”

“Thanks, Oracle. After this, I’m heading home for the night.”

“Copy that.”

He fired the grapple and dove gracefully from the building, cold air stinging his cheeks as he fell. Hopefully Selina hadn’t found the alarm; it was a brand and model new to the market, therefore something she likely hadn’t encountered yet.

When he arrived atop the building across the street from the store a few minutes later, his suspicions were confirmed. Using the thermal scan in the cowl, he spotted her in the rear of the building, presumably working on the safe. He climbed down the fire escape, crossed the street and crept into the building, tapping a message to Oracle to disable the alarm for now.

Selina waited for him in the back of the showroom, perched on a glass display case. Her long legs stretched in front of her, she pretended to inspect her nails.

“A nine and a half minute response time. Are you slowing down, or are you suddenly unconcerned with grand larceny these days?”

Bruce glanced around, noticing none of the display cases were open, the safe hadn’t been cracked, and Selina didn’t have her small backpack with her. In other words, she wasn’t after anything tonight. She was toying with him. He approached her and she remained where she was, though now she stared at him, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“How did you find the alarm?”

She feigned shock, laying a hand delicately against her chest as if he’d insulted her.

“Bat, you wound me. It was easy to spot; stores in New York and L.A. have been using that setup for _months_.”

Bruce stopped in front of her and she turned, swinging her legs down in front of her. When he didn’t say anything, she gripped the edge of the case between her knees, leaning forward slightly.

“So now that you’re here, what’s the plan?”

He cocked his head and stared at her for a moment.

“I could ask you the same thing. You haven’t taken anything, and you're still here.”

Even in the near-darkness, her emerald eyes glittered. She beckoned him closer with a crook of her finger and he obliged, stepping between her knees.

“Are you telling me I _haven’t_ taken something from you?” She rested a palm against his chest and looked up at him through thick eyelashes. “Personally, I think we’re about even. You took something of mine a long time ago, but I have no intention of asking for it back.”

Bruce leaned down, his face mere inches from hers, close enough to feel the heat of her breath on his face.

“You can’t take something I willingly gave to you.”

Her eyes widened before she blushed, momentarily looking away. He caught her chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently bringing her gaze up to meet his.

“Cat got your tongue?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Don’t get used to it,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his, smiling when he leaned in. “Now let me give you your birthday present.”

Selina wrapped her legs around his waist and Bruce dropped his hands to her hips, kissing her slowly. Her tongue swept over his lower lip before she nipped at it, smiling into his mouth when he groaned and deepened the kiss. Seconds later she was flush against his chest and he brought one hand to the back of her neck. 

When he eventually broke the kiss, they were both breathless, and she leaned her forehead against his.

“Happy Birthday, Bat,” she whispered, still grinning. “Let’s do this again some time.”

Before he could stop her, she was on her feet and sauntering toward the front door, leaving him grinning like a teenager.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the Bat signal illuminated the sky and he made his way toward GCPD. He hadn’t heard anything from Oracle or anyone else, and considering how quiet the city was in general tonight, that was disconcerting to say the least.

Bruce hauled himself up and over the edge of the roof, dropping into the shadows along the southeast corner. Jim was nowhere to be found and for a moment, worry seeped into his chest. Cautiously, he made his way over to the signal and that was when he saw it: a bottle of really good bourbon sitting on the ground in front of the signal, a card propped up against it with ‘Batman’ written in Jim’s flowing cursive.

_Well-played, Jim._

He grinned in relief and switched the signal off, picking up the bottle and the card. _Now_ it was time to head home.

So far, his birthday was shaping up to be a pretty good one.

* * *

He woke up before his alarm went off and instead of lying there waiting for it, he got up. After he showered and dressed, he headed downstairs. Alfred was already in the kitchen, as usual, making breakfast, though breakfast itself wasn’t usual.

“Good morning, Master Bruce. You’re up early.”

Bruce poured himself some coffee and squeezed Alfred’s shoulder in reply as he made his way back to the table.

“Woke up before my alarm.” He sipped his coffee and watched Alfred pour more batter onto the skillet. “What’s with the crepes?”

Alfred smiled and handed Bruce a plate of steaming crepes covered with fruit and whipped cream.

“Your regular omelet isn’t appropriate for birthdays, young man.”

Bruce shook his head and took a bite, savoring the rich flavors on his tongue. He couldn't remember the last time he had crepes.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

Alfred joined him at the table with his own plate a few minutes later. He reached over and squeezed Bruce’s arm, smiling when Bruce glanced at him.

“Happy birthday, my dear boy.”

* * *

“Just a suggestion, Bruce, but try not to schedule budget meetings on your birthday.”

Bruce yawned and stretched his neck back and forth, sighing in relief when he felt it pop. Tim grimaced at the sound and jabbed the elevator button.

“I’ll remember that. We also won’t let Tabitha have control over the agenda.”

The elevator opened and they stepped inside, Bruce frowning when they went down instead of up.

“Tim? Where are we going?”

Tim grinned and shoved his hands in his pants pockets.

“I’m taking you out for coffee, to that place two blocks up from here with the amazing clafoutis you like.”

Bruce looked at his watch, a birthday gift from Tim three years ago, and glanced back at Tim, raising an eyebrow.

“We have a Foundation meeting in half an hour.”

Tim shook his head and waved Bruce ahead when the doors opened.

“We don’t, actually. I had Lucius move that to one-thirty, so we’ve got an hour to kill.”

He followed Tim outside, the bright sunshine distracting him from how cold it was. While they waited for the light to change, Tim bumped him with his elbow and looked up at him with a bright smile.

“Happy birthday, Bruce.”

He wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders and pulled him into a sideways hug, careful not to wrinkle Tim’s suit. His hair, however, was a different story and Bruce raked his fingers through it, leaving it standing on end.

The coffee and pastry would surely be wonderful, but the way Tim laughed in that moment was the best kind of present.

* * *

After a long afternoon of meetings, Bruce arrived home to find Damian and Alfred in the kitchen. He loosened his tie and draped his jacket over a chair, leaning around Damian to peer into a sauté pan.

“Smells good. What are you making?”

Damian stirred the onions, adjusting the heat before turning to Bruce.

“French onion soup. Alfred said it’s one of your favorites.”

Alfred caught Bruce’s eye over Damian’s shoulder and winked.

“It certainly is,” he replied, taking a seat at the table. “But you didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

Damian glared at him, but there was no heat behind it. He pulled a card out of his apron pocket and slid it across the table.

“That’s nonsense. It’s your birthday, and I wanted to do something special.”

The card was handmade, with a beautifully drawn landscape on the front. On the inside, there was a short, affectionate message in Damian’s elegant handwriting wishing him a happy birthday and more to come. Bruce beckoned him over.

“Come here.”

Damian circled the table and stopped next to him, fidgeting with the strings on his apron.

“This is fantastic, Damian. Thank you, both for the card and for dinner.”

He pulled Damian into a hug, smiling up at Alfred when Damian hugged him back fiercely.

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Father.”

It was hard to imagine his birthday getting any better than this, but he hoped he’d be proven wrong, considering he hadn’t seen all of his children yet.

* * *

He was about to jump in the shower a few hours later when his phone rang. Bruce glanced down at it, seeing Dick’s picture on the screen, and stopped what he was doing to take a seat on the bed.

“Hey, Dick.”

“Hey, dad.”

Bruce’s heart lurched at hearing Dick call him dad, the way it did whenever any of them said it. Hearing that would never get old.

“I hope you’re having a great birthday, despite the fact some might consider you old now,” Dick teased.

Bruce chuckled, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Even if I am 'old', I can still take you, chum.”

Dick laughed, and it made Bruce smile even wider.

“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t want you breaking a hip to find out.” He paused, likely in the middle of getting ready for patrol. “But has it been a happy birthday? I know you’re not always a big fan.”

There was a twinge of guilt in Bruce’s chest at the fact Dick felt like he had to check up on him. It’s not like he _hated_ his birthday, he just… didn’t want to acknowledge he was getting older. Because that meant other people, such as his children and Alfred, were also getting older, and that didn't sit well with him most days.

“It’s been a good day,” he mused. “Tim took me out for coffee, and Damian and Alfred made me dinner. Jim even got me something.”

“Sounds like it’s been a pretty good day, then- I’m glad. Is it okay if I stop by after patrol later?”

Bruce sighed and shook his head.

“Dick, you know you don’t have to ask. This is your home, too.”

“Not what I meant, B. I only meant it as a heads-up, in case you had plans or something.”

There was more shuffling on Dick’s end, the sounds of him getting dressed.

“I have a sneaking suspicion there will be cake and ice cream, so if you want any, you’d better come over.”

Dick laughed again.

“Cake _and_ ice cream? I’m definitely in.”

“Then we’ll see you later. I’ll keep you posted on what time.”

“Sounds good. See you later.”

Bruce put the phone down and stared at his grinning reflection in the mirror.

 _Forty-two feels pretty good_.

* * *

Exactly one hour into patrol, he was ambushed by Spoiler and Black Bat. Cass practically tackled him, appearing from the shadows behind him, her muscular arms wrapping tightly around his waist. He lurched forward, and once he balanced himself, he leaned back into the hug.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered.

“Thank you, Cass,” he replied, craning his head to look back at her. “It’s so nice to see you.”

She let go and stepped in front of him, like she was sizing him up.

“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

She tilted her head.

“Don’t look a day over twenty-five,” she said, her voice full of mirth and joy. It was contagious and he smothered a grin. If anyone saw Batman smiling as much as he had today, he'd never hear the end of it.

“Tell everyone else that,” he muttered, just loud enough for her to catch the humor in his voice. “But thank you.”

Cass nodded and glanced behind Bruce.

“Gotta go, sorry.”

She disappeared before he could ask why she was apologizing. He spun and peered into the darkness behind him just in time for an explosion of confetti and glitter. Spoiler dropped down from the ledge above him, cackling.

“Happy birthday, Batman!”

Before he could answer, she was gone, her laughter echoing back through the alley she dropped into. As the cloud of confetti and glitter settled around him, he stifled a groan.

He’d be finding glitter for _weeks_.

But in this instance, he couldn't bring himself to care too much.

* * *

With only an hour or so to spare before they finished patrol, Oracle came through with a call about a gang fight near Robinson Park. Bruce was closest, so he said he would take care of it and meet everyone else at home. Before anyone could cheer in response, Alfred interrupted and said there would be cake and ice cream waiting when everyone arrived, but that the birthday boy would be first to eat.

“It’s no use hurrying home right now, as you won’t get anything before he does,” Alfred said. “So take your time, and I expect everything to be put away by the time your father gets home.”

Comms quickly died down as the rest of them finished their routes and headed home, while Bruce made his way to the park. He arrived on the scene to see several unconscious gang members cuffed to a chain-link fence, and Red Hood talking to a security guard with the Gotham Parks Department. The security guard went back to the main road outside the park to wait for GCPD, giving Bruce a moment alone with Jason.

“You okay?”

Jason nodded, the light from a nearby lamp post reflecting off his helmet.

“Yeah, nothing I can’t handle. One of ‘em got a shot off, but it was only a nine millimeter. My Kevlar stopped it just fine.”

He opened his jacket, allowing Bruce to see a blackened blemish in the middle of the red bat symbol on his chest. Bruce’s eyes widened- shots to the chest always hurt, but that spot was the worst. Jason removed the helmet, steam rising from his sweaty hair.

“It’s where my armor is strongest,” he continued, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You drilled that into us from the get-go, B. I'm fine.”

Bruce relaxed a little and gave him a nod. Jason didn’t show any sign of major discomfort or injury as he moved about the crime scene, marking the locations of bullet casings for the GCPD forensics team. He stepped back and allowed Jason to finish.

A few minutes later, Jason turned and pointed his flashlight directly at Bruce. He looked at the Batsuit, studying it and Bruce. His gaze wasn’t critical so much as it was methodical, like he was searching for something. Bruce held a hand up to block the beam so he could see Jason.

“You don’t look any older, but you sure as hell move like it.”

There was a hint of a smile in Jason’s voice. Bruce blew out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and shook his head.

“I don’t feel any older until I start counting candles on a cake.”

Jason turned and headed over to his motorcycle, reaching into a side compartment. He pulled out a small box and tossed it to Bruce, who opened it and carefully removed a baseball. There was an autograph on it addressed to him. It was from his favorite baseball player when he was a kid, the Hall of Fame shortstop for the Gotham Knights. The man had to be in his seventies or eighties by now. Tucked alongside the baseball was a pair of tickets to the season opener in April, the seats right above the Knights’ dugout.

Jason cleared his throat, shifting his weight self-consciously.

“Spring training started a week ago, and from the looks of the roster so far, they could go deep into the playoffs this year.”

Bruce smiled and looked up at Jason, grateful he was wearing the cowl on account of the tears pricking his eyes.

“They signed one hell of a pitcher, too. Let’s hope he’s everything they say he is.”

Jason turned his helmet in his hands and nodded in agreement.

“He had almost twenty wins and an ERA under 3 last season.”

They made eye contact and before Bruce could say any of what was on his mind, like how nice it was to see him, how incredible the gift was, or how much he missed Jason, Jason interrupted him.

“Happy birthday, old man.”

He put his helmet back on and got on his bike, speeding down the path and back to the main road.

Bruce stood there staring at the baseball in his hand, disappointed they didn’t get to talk, but ecstatic they made contact. Seconds later, Jason’s distorted voice came through his ear piece on his direct line.

“First beer and hot dog is on me. Anything beyond that, you’re on your own.”

Bruce shrugged and turned to go meet the car.

“I think I can get us a round or two.”

There was a chuckle, but nothing more. Bruce heard the purr of the bike’s engine as Jason headed toward his usual route in the northern part of the city.

“There’s cake and ice cream at home. They’d love to see you. I know I would.”

“Thanks for the invite, but I’m more of a pie and ice cream guy.” There was regret in Jason’s voice as he continued. “But I’ll keep an eye out for tonight so everyone can celebrate.”

Bruce stared toward the bridge Jason would take to get back to his usual route.

“You’re family, you know. And you’re always welcome.”

The next time Jason spoke, his voice wasn’t distorted by the helmet and the touch of melancholy was gone.

“I know, B. I’m just not up for it tonight. But tell Alfred I said hello.”

The car pulled up down the block and Bruce made his way over, glancing one more time over his shoulder.

“I will. Thanks again for the gift.”

Several seconds ticked by before Jason replied.

“You’re welcome, dad.”

Hearing that, Bruce nearly tripped over his own two feet and caught himself on the hood of the car.

If turning forty-two was this incredible, he couldn’t _wait_ until next year.


End file.
